


It Sings/We Sing

by Mogseltof



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Changing POV, Conversations in Sex, Developing Relationship, Face-Sitting, Intimacy, M/M, Matrix of Leadership (Transformers), Missionary, Mixed feelings, Oral Sex, POV Third Person Limited, Parallel scenes, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Teasing, Uncertainty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mogseltof/pseuds/Mogseltof
Summary: He's pretty, is the problem.Hot Rod - Rodimus, he's a pain in the ass, an itch in the cables, and worst? Optimus can't stoplookingat him, and he can't quite figure out why. Aside from the obvious, at any rate.
Relationships: Hot Rod/Optimus Prime, Optimus Prime/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	It Sings/We Sing

He was  _ pretty, _ was the problem. 

Optimus let his fingers linger on the fire decal as he mouthed the cables on Hot Rod’s neck, tracing the curve of the flame. The vents from Hot Rod’s systems were getting steadily threadier with the rising temperature and its burden on his frame, his vocaliser crackling with static as Optimus worked him over. Hot Rod’s leg was blisteringly hot under Optimus’s hand where he’d hiked it up and pushed it aside, giving him the space to rock his hips up against Hot Rod’s. 

Hot Rod was moaning, static laced, an arm wrapped around Optimus’s head, struts arching up as Optimus’s hand slid across his chest possessively. Optimus’s engine turned over, rumbling against Hot Rod’s frame, and he nosed further into the space between Hot Rod’s jaw and collar faring. The reaction was instant—Hot Rod writhed as Optimus used his lips and denta to tease at the cabling of his neck, his legs trying to close on Optimus’s hips, his grip tightening. 

“Op—please!” he forced out, almost choking on the static and Optimus’s hips tilted automatically at the sound, driving him deeper against Hot Rod’s nodes, grinding their plating together with the squealing of metal on metal. 

Hot Rod  _ yelped _ as Optimus started pounding into him with force, abandoning the slow rolling motions he’d been maintaining throughout their coupling. The noises from his vocaliser were louder, still threaded with static, and he gave up on trying to push back, the way he’d been digging into Optimus’s seams with his fingertips, just clinging to him instead. 

Hot Rod had a sweet voice, usually at odds with his damn attitude, but like this? With the rasping and the static and the pleading? Off kilter and reduced to wordless vocalisations like  _ this? _ Optimus bit down on the edge of Hot Rod’s collar faring to hear him cry out again, his grip tightening where he was clutching bright plating. 

The noise he got in response was  _ electric, _ strangled and loud, and Hot Rod’s head tipped back, his optics so bright with redirected charge they were almost white instead of blue. His frame undulated with the force of his overload, charge crackling as his plating shuddered and flared to release it. The freshly primed nodes within him sung to the charge built in Optimus, making him groan, and he ground up against them, dragging soft, breathy noises out of Hot Rod as he overloaded. 

He got another shiver and a murmur out of Hot Rod as the transfluid he spilled tracked the charge into his nodes, and Optimus kissed the metal where he’d bit him. Hot Rod was resetting his optics, trying to regulate his light output as Optimus propped himself up on one hand to lean over him, caressing the lick of flame near the centre of Hot Rod’s chest plate. Warmth bloomed in his chest, solid around his spark like the fire was alive in Optimus’s chest rather than on Hot Rod’s.

There was a sharp whistle of Hot Rod’s vents as Optimus’s shifting jostled his spike where they were still connected. He was splayed under Optimus, cables relaxed fully, plating popped up to release heat. Even the wings of his spoiler had separated as much as they could, angled oddly with the usually flat drag panels lifted slightly to bare the mechanisms underneath. 

“You know it’s just paint, right?” he rasped, smiling up at Optimus lopsidedly. 

Optimus felt a spike of irritation at the words and leaned down to swallow them right out of Hot Rod’s mouth. The pleased noise he got in response brought the affection swelling back and he spent a few moments indulging himself in keeping Hot Rod’s mouth too busy to make words. Hot Rod seemed content to have his words stolen; pliable and responsive under him, loosely wrapping an arm around Optimus’s head. 

“I like it,” said Optimus as he pulled back, rubbing his thumb over the centre of Hot Rod’s chestplate, just above his Autobrand. “It’s like it sings, you know?”

Hot Rod’s face crinkled up. “I do  _ not _ know,” he said, but he sounded pleased. “I have a rare allergy to sappiness.”

Optimus snorted, kissing him briefly and pushing his hand up to grip Hot Rod’s collar faring instead. “Fine. Maybe I just think you’re pretty.”

“I am  _ very _ pretty,” agreed Hot Rod, chasing Optimus’s lips with his own, and he laughed as Optimus used his grip on his collar to make sure he was too busy to make words once more. 

* * *

It was weird, was the problem. 

Rodimus had always been good at slapping on a brave face and pretending he knew what he was doing. In sex as in life. It was fun, he liked to be touched, it was (usually) a positive experience, and everyone  _ (usually) _ went away happy. This was—it was—it felt  _ different. _

Optimus’s hands were splayed over the plating under Rodimus’s chestplate, not quite holding him up, almost  _ caressing. _ His mouth on Rodimus, his head between Rodimus’s thighs, it was so  _ good, _ Rodimus’s vents were sighing with how good it was. There was just something, he couldn’t quite figure it out. 

Teeth gently scraped on a node and Rodimus groaned, Optimus’s hands gripping his waist a little more tightly. Optimus backed off a little, amusement flaring around them at Rodimus’s whine, and he kissed the juncture of Rodimus’s thigh and hip, looking up at him with optics dimmed with focus. “Are you okay?”

It was always strange to see Optimus’s full face when he was speaking, and Rodimus reset his vocaliser, taking a moment to dump the flash of heat that ran through his systems at the sight. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, feeling Optimus’s hand creep up to the nearest seam on his torso. “It’s just—weird.”

He regretted saying it almost immediately, wincing and opening his mouth again, but Optimus laughed instead, venting softly over Rodimus’s exposed array. “It is,” he agreed, and then his mouth was back on Rodimus’s valve. 

Lips and tongue and teeth on his node and Rodimus choked on his tongue, his hips rolling down into the attention, tipping forward. He braced himself on the berth behind Optimus’s head, gasping as the heat licked up his internal struts, taking the control away from his cables. He whined, giving up and rocking into the motion, letting Optimus drag him over. 

The charge leapt from his seams as he overloaded, the rush stealing his voice as he jerked away from Optimus’s mouth, pushing down onto his hands as his vents rushed and plating flared. The heat behind his chestplate didn’t diminish as he shook, and Rodimus reset his vocaliser several times even as Optimus shifted and tugged him close. 

Rodimus slumped into his shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing the seam of Optimus’s windshield as he tried to redirect his vents and coolant around his spark chamber. Optimus’s heavy hand was a comforting presence on the back of his neck, and he let himself shift against him comfortably, to enjoy the affection without thinking too hard about it. 

“Weird?” said Optimus in a low tone, still affectionate, still amused. 

Rodimus snorted. “Sorry. Not weird like ‘bad’. It’s like, like—like you’re  _ singing—” _

Optimus caught his hand on his chest and kissed it while Rodimus paused, frowning, trying to figure out why that sounded strange to him. 

“Maybe you just think I’m pretty,” Optimus teased, setting Rodimus’s hand back on his chest. 

Rodimus laughed, rubbing his thumb into the seam and looking up at Optimus. “Maybe I do,” he said, and he was gratified to get a grin in response. 

**Author's Note:**

> "I'll just go easy" I said. "Just write some short sticky, you don't have to make it weird" I said.
> 
> Anyway my desperation for more content of this ship drove me to write porn. Happy New Year \o/


End file.
